


Broken Plates and Mended Hearts

by velvetkisses



Series: Broken Plates and Mended Hearts [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Body Worship, Comedy, Cooking, Cutting, Depression, Drama, Eventual Enjolras/Grantaire, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food Kink, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Les Mis AU, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Masterchef, Reality TV, Recovery, References to Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, References to Suicide, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Self-Harm, Sex, Slice of Life, Suicide Attempt, TV Show, Taboo, Triggers, there will be sex later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetkisses/pseuds/velvetkisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Butterflies in their stomachs, hungry stares and aching hands… they didn’t sign up for this…<br/>Kitchen Warriors is a new American competitive cooking reality show. There are 3 judges: Valjean, Javert and Enjolras who are searching for the next Kitchen Warrior.<br/>Grantaire is one of the top 20 contestants, along with his good friend, Eponine. Almost immediately, Enjolras is intrigued and electrified by Grantaire who slowly returns the feelings.<br/>However, a relationship between the ice cold judge with blonde locks and the recovering alcoholic contestant with stunning blue eyes and severe depression would be deemed disastrous and frankly, unlawful in the eyes of the public because of the TV show.<br/>Behind the scenes, however...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a variety of cooking shows, most notably MasterChef.  
> There may be some borrowed ideas from a few shows.
> 
> Also inspired by my own struggle with depression, which I am still battling.  
> I thought it'd be interesting to have a relationship between a judge and a contestant behind the scenes. I hope you all enjoy and please leave feedback. It means everything to me ♥ this is my first fanfiction ever!!
> 
> Sorry in advance for any inconsistencies, I'm only halfway through with the novel so there may be some differences.
> 
> Please enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire and Eponine have been best friends for a long time and now they're entering a cooking competition show together in the hopes for one of them being the Kitchen Warrior.  
> Grantaire suffers from serious depression and tried to commit suicide last year, but is trying his best to fix his life, with Eponine's help.  
> The judges Valjean, Javert and Enjolras are very impressed with the dishes that both of them put out.  
> But one judge hungers for more than just Grantaire's chocolate souffle.

“Bloody hell, Eponine, why am I doing this again? I don’t fucking care about some stupid cooking show.” Graintaire rubbed his tired eyes and grumbled into his pillow – today was the day that Kitchen Warriors was coming to his city and he signed up for an audition.

“Because you need the money, idiot,” Eponine yelled from the bathroom. Eponine is a great cook, she can make everything from a hearty medium rare steak to a delicate flan.

“On Masterchef, Joe Bastianich burnt a wad of money saying that if you are here for the money, they should just leave…” Grantaire sat up and sighed. He was unconfident in his cooking skills. He was a 3rd year arts student, _not a culinary arts student_.

“Well, it’s a nice touch. I mean, don’t you want half a million dollars AND the title of being a Kitchen Warrior?” Eponine was Grantaire’s best friend since they were little tots. They did everything together, and now they are going into a culinary contest together.

“Grantaire, you promised me that you would try something new. You like cooking; I can see it in your eyes. You like it as much as you like art. Please, do this for yourself,” Eponine opened the door to his room and stood there with eyes darting around Grantaire's unruly hair and unshaved face.

 

Grantaire attempted to commit suicide last year; he overdosed on sleeping pills while Eponine was at work. She came back right in time and he got flushed immediately at the hospital. He has been suffering from depression and self harm since being a freshman in high school but Eponine had no idea it got so bad to the point he wanted to off it.

He’s been on medication for 3 years and was prescribed a high dosage of antideperssants ever since that incident. He is slowly recovering and is slowly finding more things he is passionate about. He has loved art since forever ago and he started to cook and really enjoy it a little while after starting medication.

He may not believe in his abilities, but he can seriously cook as well as Eponine and the aesthetics of his dishes and desserts are always mind blowing.

“Okay, okay, okay. I’m up, now stop hogging the bathroom.” Grantaire got out of his bed and walked over to Eponine, ruffling her hair.

“Now that’s a good boy,” Eponine kissed him on the cheek. There was nothing romantic about their relationship, they were just amazingly good friends, like two peas in a pod. They loved each other dearly, but they were in no way in love with each other.

“My little shit,” Grantaire smiled and made his way over to the bathroom to take a shower.

“My big shit!” Eponine giggled and went back to her room to get changed.

Grantaire took off his boxers and got into the shower, letting the water pour all over him. For the first time since being in the hospital and awaking to seeing Eponine asleep by his bed, holding his hand – he cried.

 

He cried because he was so happy to have Eponine support him and to have someone like her in his life. He cried because he didn’t want to disappoint her. He cried because he felt like this was the first step he has made outside his comfort zone and realized that this was his chance to change his life forever.

His hands traced over the marks on his arms, his stomach, and his legs. They were white now, still bumpy but they were white. He knew these marks would never fade, along with the memories that came with them. Every single time he cut, he would drink until he passed out. Grantaire closed his eyes and remembered the last time – it was the night of his attempted suicide. He sliced his leg with a razor, he watched the dark red liquid bead up and trickle down his thighs. He thought it was his last night so he might as well feel alive for a little while before drowning himself in alcohol and sleeping pills.

That night would haunt him forever, but he knew he needed to move on from it. Art made him happy, food made him happy, music made him happy, alcohol used to make him happy until he was forced to quit from then on… He sings in the shower and that was enough for him, so art and food it was! He channeled all his hatred **for the** world into making food that was **out of this** world.

Eponine and Grantaire often spoke of opening a restaurant together, after they graduated from university. But for now, they were just going to try and be on Kitchen Warriors. Grantaire shampooed and conditioned, he shaved, he brushed his teeth and ran out of the bathroom naked to his bedroom. He didn’t like it when Eponine saw his scars but he also didn’t like being clothed while he was wet from the shower. He tried his best to look presentable yet still maintain his signature _“I just rolled out of bed but hey I’m here”_ look.

He put on a white graphic tee, a tan dress shirt left unbuttoned, acid wash skinny jeans and black combat boots and walked out of his room, more confident than before and sat on the couch in their living room, waiting for Eponine. Eponine looked lovely in her purple a-line dress and black flats that made her dark brown eyes pop.

“What’s with the t-shirt? You look like a hipster,” She looked at his attire and sure, he looked good but his jeans were probably a bit too tight.

“It’s a cooking show, not a fashion show, babe.” He stood up and grabbed their bags, getting ready to leave.

“Wait, did you take your meds yet?” Eponine raised her eyebrows, she hated it when Grantaire tried to miss his doses.

“Yeah, I did,” Grantaire avoided her eyes and looked at her forehead. He used to be really good at lying, he still is but Eponine started to see through it once that happened and she realized how seriously he was hurting.

“Grantaire, I am not kidding. You need to take your medication,” She went into the cabinet and got it out for him. He could take pills dry now, he was so used to it.

“They make me drowsy and I don’t want to fall asleep while cooking,” He looked at the four white pills and sighed. His new prescription took a while getting used to and being drowsy and dizzy were some of the side effects.

“So, you do care about this…” Eponine smiled and gestured him to take it. Grantaire rolled his eyes and swallowed the pills and they left, arm in arm, holding their bags full of supplies and their heads held high. Eponine drove them to the hotel where the open call was held at.

* * *

 

“I am so bloody nervous. I am so nervous, Grantaire,” Eponine dug her nails into his arm as they sat in the waiting room.

He put his hand on hers and looked into her eyes,” ‘Ponine. You’re the best cook I know. You are going to get that ticket into the next round. I know you are.”

“You are too, you just have to try, R,” Eponine squishes his face in her hands and giggled.

“I don’t care if I get it or not, I care if you do,” He squished her face in his hands too. Another contestant walked by them and looked at them.

“Da fuq you lookin at?” Eponine let go of Grantraire’s face and stuck at her tongue and laughed.

“Now, now, play ni-“ Grantaire was interrupted by the intercom and the flashing red sign with Eponine’s name on it.

“EPONINE, GO GO GO! It’s your turn to prepare!!!” He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek and whispered good luck.

Eponine waved and gave him a thumbs up as one of the hosts escorted her away into the preparation room. Grantaire sighed and slumped down in his chair. This meant he was going to be called next, god, he was nervous. He was so nervous that he wanted to dart through that door and text Eponine, telling her that he was out. Or even worse, lie to her and say he didn’t get through. But no, that would be wrong. He **couldn’t** disappoint Eponine like that.

Before he knew it, his name was called and he was in a room where everyone was busy preparing their dishes.

* * *

 

He got his supplies out and started the batter, buttered the ramekins and placed them into the oven. Grantaire was making a chocolate soufflé. He knew he was taking a risk by making something so technical but he loved watching it rise.

As soon as it was done and risen, he dusted it with powder sugar and some raspberry coulis. Grantaire finished his soufflé with some mint leaves and fresh raspberries. With the extra time left, he melted some chocolate and decorated the rim of the plate with abstract paisley designs.

* * *

 

As soon as his name was called, once again, he was escorted to a dark room where the spotlight shone on the three judges standing before him, he placed his soufflé on the table and looked down.

“I’m Valjean, this is Javert and Enjolras. What is your name and how old are you?” Valjean, the owner of 26 restaurants worldwide and 12 Michelin stars asked, with a slight smile.

“My name is Grantaire and I am 20 years old,” he breathed heavily.

“So, are you in school?” Javert looked at him and then at the soufflé with cold eyes.

“Yeah, I am a 3rd year art student,” Grantaire glanced at the camera that was moving closer to him.

“How did you get into cooking?” Enjolras moved his blonde curls out of his face and crossed his arms. Grantaire was left a little flustered by this simple gesture and inhaled sharply as he felt the camera moving even closer to him.

“Well, I started really getting into cooking when I was a first year stud-,” Grantaire had to clear his throat because he saw black specks around his eyes. Shit, was he going to pass out? Or maybe he was really drowsy from the medication still.

“Are you alright, Grantaire?” Valjean stood up from his seat, eager to help the young man.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just drowsy,” He shook his head.

“Did you take something… before coming in here?” Javert eyed him down.

“No, I mean yes. I took some medicine,” He stammered.

“For what?” Enjolras' curious eyes jarred open.

“Just some health issues,” Grantaire was not about to say for clinical depression on national television, mind you.

“You’re not going to tell us some sob story, are you? We’re here to find a Kitchen Warrior – we’re not here to just hand you a ticket,” Javert announced.

“I understand,” Grantaire knew that Javert was the judge that took a lot of work to win over.

“Enough with the chit chat, tell us about your dish while we have a taste,” Enjolras commanded. Grantaire was a little intimidated by Enjolras. He looked young, not much older than Grantaire himself, yet he has such an air of authority.

“It is a chocolate soufflé with raspberry coulis and topped off with fresh raspberries and mint leaves,” Grantaire looked down at his dish and prepared himself for all the scrutinizing criticisms that were about to come spewing out of the judges’ mouths. Each judge took a taste silently, maintaining a poker face.

After a few seconds of silence that was assumed to be those dramatic pauses where the editors would add dramatic music in, someone finally started to speak.

“Grantaire, you hold a lot of promise. That is a damned good soufflé. It is soft, airy and yet maintains such a bold chocolate taste without being heavy,” Valjean smiled, showing his stained teeth – probably from all the coffee he drinks.

“That raspberry coulis definitely has the right amount of acidity and tang, without taking away from the star of the show,” Enjolras nodded and looked into Grantaire's tired pale blue eyes.

“Young man, you have definitely surprised me. I can tell you are an artist with all the drawings along the rim of the plate. That is a spectacular dessert, but can you also cook savoury dishes?” Javert’s cold demeanor suddenly lightened.

“Yes, I can,” Grantaire affirmed with astounding confidence he didn’t even know he had.

“Grantaire, you have rightfully earned yourself the golden ticket to New York City as one of the contestants where we will determine whether or not you should be in the Top 20. Congratulations,” Enjolras handed him the ticket.

“Thank you all," Grantaire smiled humbly as he felt some tears welling up in his eyes, he needed to get out of there. He didn’t want anyone to see him cry.

He turned around and walked out of the room to see Eponine waiting for him with open arms and her hand grasping a golden ticket.

“HELL YEAH FUCK YEAH GRANTAIRE WE DID IT WE DID IT WE ARE GOING TO NEW YORK!!!!!!” Eponine screamed as she saw the golden ticket in his hand. He lifted her up and spun her around.

“We should go home and pack, we’re leaving in a few days!” Eponine chirped and noticed that Grantaire was as red as a tomato and had some tear stains on his cheeks.

“Grantaire, honey, are you crying?” Eponine took his face in her hands again and wiped away the stains with her thumbs.

“I.. I’m just really happy, ‘Ponine,” He said before blacking out.

* * *

 

Back in the judging room, the three men were still talking about the soufflé as the next and last contestant was preparing to come in.

“Javert, I’ve never heard you compliment someone like that before,” Enjolras teased.

“I’ve got to say. That Grantaire kid has got what it takes to become a Kitchen Warrior,” Javert sighed.

“He shows a lot of great potential. That soufflé was crazy flavourful and the texture was spot on. I hope his savoury dishes are just as good,” Valjean pat Javert on the back.

Enjolras felt something in his chest like never felt before. He took the soufflé off the table and took another taste and then another.

“Hmm, kid. You like that soufflé a lot, don’t you?” Javert’s eyes narrowed.

“Like you said, it is a spectacular dessert,” Enjolras smiled.

Grantaire’s closed demeanor and enigmatic blue eyes awakened something in him that he simply could not shake off. He knew he wanted to taste more of Grantaire’s food. There was an inherent sadness in those blue eyes that he wanted to discover more of. He wanted to know everything about Grantaire. He wanted to know about his health issues. He wanted to know more about his art. He wanted it all. The 23 year old chef and restaurateur was as rising star in the culinary world and this was his first TV show and he didn’t want to screw things up by seemingly showing favouritism. But gosh, he wanted… needed Grantaire to be in the Top 20.

In came the next contestant with a plate of what looked like a sorry excuse for a cake, which failed to knock Enjolras out of his thoughts for the brunette art student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration from lots of cooking shows, most notably MasterChef  
> Changed the nationality because I’m only familiar with Canadian and American systems :$
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. This is my first time writing a fanfiction and I'm halfway through the Les Mis novel so I apologize for any inconsistencies. But I am in love with cooking shows and I thought a relationship between a judge and a contestant would be so.... treacherous and cute, aha.  
> Thanks so much for reading, my lovelies. Please leave me some feedback in the comments, subscribe, bookmark? xxx :-)  
> By the way, my apologies for the slight cliff hanger!


	2. An Unexpected Visitor bringing about Unexpected Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras is completely bewildered by Grantaire. All he knows is that he wants the boy with the souffle.  
> He goes to great lengths to ensure Grantaire is okay, much to Valjean and Javert's suspicion.  
> Eponine is worried sick about Grantaire, leading Enjolras into thinking that they're together -- much to his dismay and disappointment.  
> The night before they are heading off to go to New York, Grantaire falls asleep to Enjoras' voice, which is smooth like honey and sweet like peaches and to the image of his picture perfect face.  
> What is going to happen now that the competition is about to start and it's getting hot in the kitchen?

“GET YOUR CAMERAS AWAY FROM HIM! SOMEONE CALL 911!” Eponine wailed at the cameramen and shook Grantaire, who was now lying on the ground, still gripping the golden ticket.  
The ambulance came in a matter of minutes and carried Grantaire off in a stretcher, with Eponine alongside his motionless body.  
The other auditioners crowded around the exit, murmuring amongst themselves as the ambulance rushed away.  
“Is he dead?”  
“Javert must’ve chewed him out.”  
“Such a shame, he got a ticket too.”

* * *

  
The last contestant exited the judging room with their head down in shame. The cake, obviously did not cut it.

  
“Too bad we couldn’t end off strong on the last day of auditions,” Javert sighed in disappointment.

  
“Not everyone can be in Kitchen Warriors,” Valjean smirked and rolled his neck.

  
“Do we have 100 contestants?” Enjolras was still thinking of Grantaire. How was he celebrating his achievements? Would he have a drink or two? Would he go home and pack immediately for New York City?

  
“Yes, on the dot. Unfortunately, for 80 of them – New York City will be their first and last stop on their Kitchen Warrior journey,” Javert raised his eyebrows in anticipation. This was going to be a tough competition. The food he tasted today has brought him around the world and back. The mellow flavours of Northern China, the intense heat of the Spanish and the complexity and class that French cuisine inherits – the best contestants have to be able to nail all of them and more.

  
“AND CUT!! That’s a rap,” The director shouted,” Good job today, everyone! Now… off to New York City!”

  
The cheers and applauds echoed through the room. This is a TV show, after all, some things must be said in order to intensify the competition and bump those ratings without being “fake”. The judges, Valjean, Javert and Enjolras were asked to truthfully taste the dishes that were presented before them and say exactly what is on their mind. Curse words would be censored, middle fingers would be blurred but other than that, the floor was theirs.

  
“Director, Chefs, I’m sorry to interrupt but… There was an incident in the waiting room,” Angelica, one of the behind the scenes personnel, informed.

* * *

  
“What kind of accident?”

  
“Someone fainted and was sent to the hospital by ambulance; it was one of the contestants with a ticket.”

  
“Who was it?”

  
“I believe his name is Grantaire.” The name hung in the eerie air as Enjolras felt tightness in his chest.

  
“Grantaire? Wasn’t he just in here?” Valjean’s eyes widened. He had a feeling that something was up once Grantaire stopped mid sentence.

  
“Oh my god… Is he alright? What do we do now?” Enjolras was worried. What the hell had happened?

  
“Well, we have to make sure he is okay, first of all. We are leaving for New York in 3 days and if he can’t recover by then, he can’t participate,” The director pointed out.

  
“That is not fair though, we are looking for the next Kitchen Warrior. He has potential to be one! We have to make amends to these extenuating circumstances,” Enjolras argued. He prayed to whoever was up there that Grantaire could recover.

  
“We can’t delay the plane tickets for over a hundred people because of one person, that’s irrational, Enj,” Javert scolded. Deep down, he was a little disappointed too.

  
“Okay, everyone. We just need to make sure that he is stable for now. He fainted – he should be alright in 3 days,” Valjean reassured.

  
“I sure hope you’re right, Valjean. Angelica, can you check up on Grantaire or send someone over?” The director requested.

  
“Director, if it’s okay. May I check up on the contestant?” Enjolras pleaded.

  
“Enj… you’re young, you’re famous. The paparazzi are going to follow you and you know how the hospital is with all the cameras. The doctors hate it,” The director put his hand on Enjolras shoulder. He believed Enjolras was a compassionate, firey and talented young man and was a delight to work with.

  
“I’ll keep it on the down low. I feel like I may be partially responsible for the stress that the contestant felt that may have put him in the hospital,” he looked down and felt Valjean and Javert eyeing him questionably. He knew that he didn’t criticize Grantaire like Javert did but he was trying to make it seem like he was seeing him out of guilt and not because of something… out of the ordinary.

  
“Alright, Enj. Text me the details and send my warmest wishes to him and his family. See you in three days,” The director smiled. The director sincerely thought Enjolras as if he was his son.

  
“Thank you, guys. See you all at the airport,” Enjolras flashed them his pearly whites and made his way through the backdoor with his shades on. He had no time to deal with the paparazzi right now.

  
He just wanted to see Grantaire. He knew nothing about him yet felt like he has known him for his entire life. Enjolras was intrigued by Grantaire and he just could not pinpoint why.  
Enjolras’ mother had told him that food was what brought people together and here he was, chasing after the student with the soufflé.

  
He got into his car and sighed. Was he really going to risk being bombarded with people just for this person he didn’t even know? God, he wished he could get his thoughts straight.

  
Maybe this was just lustful intentions. Grantaire was only a few years his junior and he was certainly attractive with his slim physique, broad shoulders, curly chocolate locks, pale blue eyes… oh, he could go on and on about him. His voice was deep, soft and warm, in contrast to his cool toned skin.

  
Enjolras never thought of himself as being gay. Maybe he wasn't, but it was just Grantaire. It was all Grantaire. It was all about the boy with the soufflé.

  
He arrived at the hospital in less than ten minutes.

* * *

  
“Hello, is there a Grantaire here?” Enjolras asked the woman at the counter.

  
“Sorry, we cannot disclose that kind of information unless you are related to the patient,” the woman replied, grumpily, not even taking a second to look up at the young chef.

  
“I’m his… brother,” Enjolras muttered. Shit, he was about to say partner.

  
“Do you have ID?” She looked up into Enjolras’ ocean blue eyes and gasped. “ENJOLRAS!! OH MY GOD! My mother, my cat and I always watch your interviews! I LOVE KITCHEN WARRIORS!!!! Can I have your autograph?” She shrieked.

  
“I’m sorry I need to visit my brother first, but I’ll give you an autograph later,” Enjolras gave her a shy smile.

  
“O-Okay… Grantaire is in… Room B30, second floor on the right,” she smiled and gave him a visitor pass.

  
“Thank you, ma’am.”

  
He slipped the visitor pass carefully around his neck and took the elevator up. Enjolras was so relieved that the woman at the counter didn’t say Grantaire was transferred to the emergency room. Then again, he only fainted – it shouldn’t be that serious.

* * *

  
He knocked on the door lightly and opened it. He probably shouldn’t have done that because he instantly felt his heart sink to his stomach.  
 _I knew it_ , he thought. _Someone like that can’t be single._

  
There was a sobbing brunette holding Grantaire’s hand whom was seemingly by his side all along.  
She turned around and Enjolras recognized her as the girl who made a Thai coconut curry that won Javert over.

  
“Chef Enjolras…” Eponine looked surprised. Well, she has a reason to be. It isn’t everyday that you see a famous chef out in public with no one surrounding them.

  
“Hello, Eponine, was it?” Enjolras smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was at a loss for words.

  
“Yes, I’m Eponine. Um… What are you doing here?” She blurted out, but then covered her mouth upon the realization that it might’ve came off as rude.

  
“I wanted to check up on… Grantaire,” he answered. He wanted it to seem like he didn’t care for Grantaire in that way.

  
“That’s nice of you. I’m… I’m just waiting for him to wake up,” Eponine stifled a sob.

  
Suddenly, as if on cue, Grantaire’s eyelids fluttered open and he felt Eponine’s tight grip. This was all too familiar to the time he woke up in the hospital after failing to commit suicide.

  
But, wait, there was another person beside him. Someone with blonde hair, someone with a tall, muscular stature, someone… Chef Enjolras?

  
“Nnnnn,” Grantaire groaned. His head felt like it weighed a million pounds and his chest was hot and heavy.

  
“Oh my fucking god, Grantaire. What the fuck happened?” Eponine stood up rashly and hugged him tight.

  
“Am I in New York?” Grantaire asked, sleepily.

  
“No, you’re in the hospital. But, I’ll tell you what – you will be in New York in 3 days if you feel better by then,” Enjolras lilted. He still felt disappointed for allowing himself to care for someone who was already taken, but was relieved that Grantaire was okay. It was alright. They could be friends after Kitchen Warriors was over.

  
“Chef Enjolras? Ah shit, I’m eliminated already?” Grantaire threw his head back.

  
“You big shit, you scared the crap out of me. You blacked out and fainted in the waiting room,” Eponine wiped the tears from her eyes.

  
“I’m going to call the doctor,” Enjolras announced and walked out the door.

* * *

  
“’Ponine, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. It’s probably the medication,” Grantaire patted her head.

  
“God, I thought you went back to your old ways of alcohol and cutting and pills and all that other shit.”

  
“I promise you, I’m not going to try that ever again. I’m here and I’m here for good. I’m trying to put my life back together and I can’t do that if you’re crying. Smile for me,” he stroked her cheek.

  
Eponine kissed Grantaire on the cheek and tangled her fingers in his messy hair.

  
“Grantaire, how are you feeling, young man?” The doctor came in with Enjolras.  
“I’m tired but I’m okay. Is it the medication that’s causing me to faint?”

  
“Yes, combined with fatigue and stress. If you want I can get you a lower dosage. I spoke with Dr. Phillips and he said it is up to you if you want to go down to 80 mg twice daily.”  
“Will there be any withdrawal side effects? The last time he lowered the dosage, he couldn’t even get out of bed,” Eponine pointed out which resulted in a nudge from Grantaire who glanced at Enjolras.

  
“I’m sorry, should I leave?” Enjolras bit his lip.

  
“No… Um, this won’t be on the show, right?” Grantaire groaned, he really didn’t need the entire world knowing he had a mental illness. He was still self conscious about this and he didn’t want anyone to pity him. He hated sympathy. It made him feel like less of a person and completely objectifies him. Grantaire knew he was broken and he needed help being put back together, without being pitied.

  
“Of course not, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I’m just here to say we wish you a speedy recovery and we hope you can continue competing in Kitchen Warriors,” Enjolras reassured.

  
“Alright, thanks. I’ll be there, Chef Enjolras. I’ll see you in a few days,” Grantaire smiled and Enjolras thought he was going to burst.

  
“G-Goodbye Grantaire,” he felt his cheeks flush and coughed,”goodbye doctor and Eponine.”

  
He exited the room quickly, closing the door and slumping to the ground.  
Enjolras breathed heavily. _Look at me, I’m blushing like a little schoolboy._ But fucking hell, Grantaire made him feel electric. He didn’t even have to say much; just a glance from him would suffice. Fuck, he needs to control himself. _He’s taken, he’s taken, he’s taken. God, Enjolras, remain_ _composed_. He ruffled his hair, got out his phone and sent a text to the director.

**Grantaire is alright. He should be okay to go to New York. See you soon.**

**\- Enj**

  
Grantaire wondered why Enjolras, no Chef Enjolras, was acting so… differently. He thought of Enjolras as a mixture of the strict Javert and the understanding Valjean. But, he didn’t imagine Enjolras to be coming to contestants’ hospital rooms and making sure they were okay. It was strange.

  
“Grantaire? Did you hear what the doctor said?” Eponine waved her hand in front of his eyes.

  
“I’m sorry, what?”

  
“It’s okay. I was just saying that there might be slight withdrawal symptoms like dizziness for the first two or three days but nothing as dramatic as this. This was due to numerous factors.”

  
“Alright, I’ll try the lower dosage out.”

  
“Okay, here is your prescription for your antidepressants. I hope you feel better soon,” the doctor gave the prescription to Eponine and left.

  
“Eponine, let’s go home,” Grantaire hated hospitals.

* * *

  
“Grantaire!! HURRY UP! We’re on next,” Eponine sat on their couch with a bowl of popcorn. They would be flying off to New York tomorrow and just finished packing, right in time to catch the new episode of Kitchen Warriors.

  
“I’m coming, sheesh,” Grantaire slumped down next to her and grabbed a handful of popcorn.

  
“OH MY GOD! LOOK! THAT’S ME, THAT’S ME!” Eponine threw popcorn at the screen.

  
“God, Eponine. I was there with you,” Grantaire rolled his eyes. He was amused though. He hasn’t seen Eponine so happy in a while. It was nice seeing her smile and laugh instead of hearing her complain about work all the time.

  
“HOLY SHIT! HOLY FUCKING SHIT! JEAN VALJEAN IS EATING MY CURRY!” She squealed and stuffed more popcorn in her mouth.

  
“Ooh, lots of heat. Your palette is extraordinary,” Valjean nodded, on the screen.

  
“Presentation wise, it is lacking a bit. It looks like a pile of – “ Javert said, but was cut off by a huge Kitchen Warriors logo, signalling the commercial break.

  
“Javert, that bastard is hard to please,” Grantaire shook his head.

  
“Yeah, but I pleased him. Just watch!” Eponine giggled in excitement.

  
“It looks like a pile of gunk. But, the heat packs just enough kick while still maintaining flavour and that coconut aroma. Bravo, young lady,” Javert looked over to Enjolras.

  
“A lot of people use a ton of spices to try to mask their mediocre dish, but you, surprisingly did not. Very intensely flavourful and a good balance of different spices,” Enjolras nodded.

  
Enjolras’ dark blue eyes brightened with fire and passion when he was talking about food. You could tell he loves it by the way his body relaxes into his seat.

  
“Well, come on up and grab your ticket because you’re going to New York!” Valjean announced.

  
Grantaire laughed as Eponine jumped her way to the judges to grab the ticket and ran out of the door screaming “FUCK YEAH!!!!!!!!!” The f word was obviously censored.

  
“Next up is a sensitive 20 year old art student, Grantaire,” the narrator said as flashes of Grantaire working at the preparation station appeared on screen.

  
“Awwww, Grantaire… They called you sensitive,” Eponine taunted.

  
“Assholes, this isn’t Plenty Of Fish,” Grantaire grumbled.

  
“Oh, look at me, I’m an art student. I’m so sensitive and sweet! I’m going to make a soufflé filled with looooove!” Eponine continued to tease him.

  
“Fuck you, I’m going to bed,” Grantaire got up from his seat and went into his bedroom, throwing himself onto the bed.

He buried his head underneath his pillow, trying to muffle the sound of Eponine’s laughter erupting in his room as a result of watching his audition.  
He has never been to New York before. Admittedly, he was a bit nervous. He wonders what is in store for him in the Big Apple.

  
Just before he fell asleep, Chef Enjolras’ image flashed in his head. Along with his voice that was smooth like honey and sweet like peaches when he said _Goodbye Grantaire..._ it echoed through his mind.  
And before Grantaire could question why, he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :$ Sorry, not a lot of E/R action yet. But it's going to start to accelerate soon, since the real competition is starting.  
> I'm going to start to introduce more of the characters as well.  
> Poor Enj, he thinks Grantaire is taken...
> 
> Let me know what you think, I'm so happy that I got some feedback on my first chapter! I'm so sorry if there are any errors or anything. My deepest apologies from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> Any readers and any feedback means the world to me ♥  
> YAY THEY'RE GOING TO NEW YORK! :)


	3. He Took all the Air With Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've arrived in New York and Enjolras is still smitten with Grantaire, even though he is "taken".  
> As if planned, they accidentally bump into each other at Starbucks and their conversations lead to the conclusion that they are compatible with each other. The air reeks with sexual tension and boners and platonic fluff and goddamn, neither of them know what is going on.

The different shades of blue coloured the sky and there it was – the sun. It was the first thing to pierce the darkness and illuminate the New York skyline. The golden rays dashed and danced in every direction, not missing a single spot.

Grantaire has numerous paintings of sunrises and sunsets. He loved the sun; he was attracted to its endless light and warmth. He adored how the sun still continued to rise and shoo away the hardest nights.

Grantaire planted a kiss on Eponine’s head that was resting upon his shoulder. They would be landing soon.

Eponine’s dark long eyelashes soaked up each drop of light that shone through the passenger window of the airplane. They were glistening with tears.

She was a strong young woman. She came from a broken family, with two abusive parents that treated her and her siblings terribly. Then, at the age of 16, after years of torment – she ran away with Grantaire.

The only thing she regrets about leaving home was that she couldn’t take her sister and 3 brothers with her. She heard that her parents were in jail now for child abuse and that two of her brothers have died of abuse and starvation. She dreamt of reuniting with Gavroche and Alzema, who have been adopted into separate families. Grantaire and Eponine would try to find them a few times a year, but to no avail. It was hard because they might have changed their name or left the country.

Grantaire, who was 2 years younger than Eponine, was only 14 when he ran away with her. Grantaire is an orphan. He never knew his father; he was a scumbag who left early on in his life. His mother was a sweet woman stricken by an unfortunate fate. She supported Grantaire as much as she could until passing away due to cancer. He was in foster care for 4 years, however, his foster parents weren’t the nicest and always kept the government cheques from him.

The night before they left, Grantaire searched the house for cash. He took what was rightfully his – no more, no less. Grantaire and Eponine met at the train station and off they went, to a brighter future. They enrolled into a high school, got their diploma and made it into university. Eponine studied Biochemistry and is now working at a bar. Grantaire is studying Fine Arts and is unemployed, but does occasionally sell a painting or two.

Now, old friends since the very beginning, they have their own flat and are certainly not well off – but they have enough and they have each other. Grantaire always felt guilty for falling so deeply into depression and not being able to do as much as Eponine, but she never blamed him.

_What is important is that you take care of yourself. Your health is what matters most. Don’t worry about the fucking bills, I’ll handle it. You just work on getting yourself better._

God, what would he do without her? She was like his mother, his sister, his soul mate, his best friend. And he was hers, that was one of the only things they were ever sure of. Little does Grantaire know, Eponine believes that Grantaire saved her from herself.

A victim of depression since the age of 14, Grantaire was still alive and kicking. Sure, he might’ve wanted to end it last year, but the God they don’t believe in, has other plans for him and he was saved. It is not his time and Grantaire has been trying so hard this past year to fix himself.

Grantaire was against all odds. He was shattered and is scattered like the stars in the skies. But, he is beside her and she is beside him every step of the way. Perhaps, Grantaire was strong too; he simply needs to find it within himself to move forward.

“’Ponine,” Grantaire shrugged his shoulder to gently wake the sleeping girl up.

“ ‘Taire…” she smiled, sleepily and wiped her eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“I had a dream about Gavroche. We found him and I took custody of him.”

“One day, love. One day.”

“Are we there yet?”

“Soon.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Kind of, I watched a couple movies and played Tetris on this thing,” he tapped on the screen attached to the airplane seat in front of him.

“Attention all passengers, we will be arriving in New York City in approximately 15 minutes. Please wait for the plane to come to a full stop before leaving your seat and make sure to take all your belongings with you. Thank you and enjoy your stay,” the flight attendant announced.

Grantaire looked around at the all the passengers. _Holy shit._ All these people were contestants that were against him for the Top 20. He felt a lump in his throat. He hasn’t even begun this journey and yet he already felt like it was over.

“Don’t you fucking start overthinking. You just arrived in NEW YORK. Go apeshit crazy and don’t break down on me,” Eponine pinched his cheek. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

 

Everybody left the plane in an orderly fashion (except for Eponine and Grantaire who goofed around and kept throwing airplane earphones at each other) and got onto their respective greyhound bus that would take them to the five star hotel they would be staying at.

* * *

 

Enjolras glanced at his watch. They should be here by now. _He_ should be here by now. The three judges were in the lobby of hotel, awaiting the arrival of the greyhound buses.

“Enj, lighten up. You’re going to scare away the contestants and that’s Javert’s job,” Valjean placed a firm hand on Enjolras’ shoulder.

“We have a total of 100 contestants here today and 80 of them will be leaving in a matter of a few hours, this is going to be intense,” Enjolras tried to relax but he couldn’t. He was nervous. He hasn’t seen Grantaire in a couple days and it was tugging on his heartstrings. But, they were filming right now and he had to maintain his composure and sustain his “cold and silent” judge appearance.

A few minutes later, the lobby was filled with the contestants, towing along their luggage and carry-ons . Yet, Enjolras immediately spotted Grantaire who looked *gulp* cute with a plaid shirt and a beanie. Of course, Eponine was beside him and was quite a bit shorter than Grantaire. Enjolras estimated that Grantaire’s forehead would hit right where his lips were, perfect for… _No, fuck, we’re on air._

Grantaire caught Enjolras staring at him and gave him a small smile and a slight wave. _Goddammit._ Enjolras looked away abruptly and cleared his throat.

“Welcome to La Rue Plumet, one of New York’s best hotels. How is everyone doing?” Valjean popped open a bottle of champagne and took a sip out of a crystal glass.

“GOOD!!!” The contestants shouted.

“Alright, we know you are all tired so everyone grab a room key card and head upstairs and rest for tonight in your all expenses paid hotel room for the remainder of your Kitchen Warrior career!” Javert exclaimed with surprising energy.

“Rest up, if you are hungry, please call room service and there will be a menu placed on your nightstand. For 60 of you, this will be your first and last night at La Rue Plumet as the competition starts tomorrow,” Valjean informed.

 

“Have a good night, everyone,” Enjolras greeted and watched the crowd gather their room keys. He noticed Eponine and Grantaire searching the cards for two rooms that were beside each other’s and sighed. _I don’t even know this guy, I shouldn’t be jealous._

* * *

 

Grantaire desperately needed a cup of coffee and he wasn’t going to call room service.

_3:46 am. I saw a Starbucks on the way here; hopefully it’s open for 24 hours._

He got his phone out to send a quick text to Eponine but realized she is obviously exhausted and is probably sleeping. He was so used to sending her a text when he was on his way out.

He ran a hand through his curly bedhead and stripped down for a shower.

_I wonder why Chef Enjolras didn’t wave back at me. He doesn’t like me, huh._

_Probably thinks I’m some punk kid who needs a haircut. To hell with him and his stupid blue eyes and his douchey voice and his…_

He suddenly remembered the night he thought of Chef Enjolras before he went to bed and that sent shivers down his neck and felt sparks around his… groin.

 _What the fuck?_ He looked at his increasing erection. _Am I getting hard off Chef Enjolras? What the actual fuck is going on?_

He quickly turned the tap to cold and blasted his young body with cold water and thankfully, he slowly went limp.

 

The biology of his body was failing him. _Damn, I hope I don’t get blue balls._

* * *

 

The city that never sleeps. It was true, the lights of New York never went out. There was always something happening, there was always something to do.

He stepped inside the Starbucks and looked around. It was rather vacant, but of course who would come to Starbucks at such an ungodly hour.

“A grande Americano, please,” Grantaire passed over his card.

“What is your name?”

“Just R,” Grantaire smirked, he loved the confused looks that baristas would give him when he said that.

“R? Okay,” the barista shook his eyes and took a swipe of the card.

“Thanks.”

Grantaire got his coffee and took a seat that was right next to the window when he noticed the reflection of someone approaching him.

“Grantaire,” the voice was strong and firm. As if he needed to turn around and see who it was, but he did anyway.

“Chef Enjolras,” Grantaire started to feel the shivers again and then the sparks. _Oh hell no, not again._ He started to breathe in and out and calm his nerves down. Why did Chef Enjolras make him feel this way?

“Just Enjolras, we’re not on television here. May I take a seat next to you?” Enjolras asked politely. Grantaire nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

“Why are you up? It’s not even 5 am yet,” Enjolras couldn’t believe his luck. He wanted to know Grantaire better. He wanted to… be friends. Yes, friends. That was it. Just friends.

“I couldn’t sleep and figured I needed a coffee,” Grantaire chuckled and looked down. _This was the man who would be judging your cooking. He would be analyzing your dishes and if they aren’t good enough, you will be sent home._

“I see. So, Grantaire. Tomorrow is the big day, how are you feeling?” _God, Enjolras, you sound like an old man. Simmer the formality down. He’s a 20 year old and you’re bloody 23, for Christ’s sake._ Enjolras gulped.

“I’m nervous but I… I don’t know, just hoping for the best,” Grantaire mumbled.

“Are you on summer break right now?”

“Yeah, I’m starting my third year in September.”  
“What kind of art do you like to create?”

“Anything really, but I love to paint the most,” Grantaire’s eyes twinkled with passion. Enjolras couldn’t help but smile. He admired passion and it was one of his own very characteristics that other people were drawn to.

“So… Um, you’re really young, right?” Grantaire asked, quietly.

“I’m 23,” Enjolras raised his eyebrows. Where was this heading to? Was Grantaire trying to get to know him better too?

“And you’re already a big name in the culinary world? That’s fucking amazing,” Grantaire almost knocked over his coffee cup,” ah shit, excuse my language.” He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He just made a complete fool of himself.

Enjolras chuckled,” It’s okay, man. I curse all the time.” Grantaire was feeling hotter and hotter as he felt Enjolras’ ice walls come down. He was being informal, but yet he still had such a controlling tone. It was, alluring to say the least.

“I’m not a big name. People make a big deal out of it because I’m young. I’m just like everybody else.”

“No, you’re not. You’re talented and you love food. You inspire people,” Grantaire locked his eyes on Enjolras’. His heart felt like it was going to fall out of his chest. Shit, what has gotten into him?

“Th-thank you. It means a lot, coming from you. You know, you don’t meet a lot of people around here that are my age. So, thanks,” Enjolras has never been this flustered in his life. He always had a way with words but around Grantaire, it’s as if he has forgotten how to speak.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is your medication for?”

Grantaire looked away and appeared instantly uncomfortable.

“Shit, I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Enjolras was not about to fuck this opportunity up.

“It’s… It’s not that I don’t want to, Enjolras,” It was the first time Grantaire called him by his name, with the honorific, Chef, in front of it,” It’s just hard for me to talk about.”

“That’s alright. I’m just curious, is all.” Enjolras respected privacy. He respected human rights and he was not going to violate someone’s personal life, no matter how much he wanted to be a part of it.

They spoke more about their love of cooking. Enjolras revealed that he originally wanted to be a lawyer and worked part time at a restaurant. Then, he was scouted and now out of nowhere, he has published cookbooks and was invited to interviews and then Kitchen Warriors happened.

Grantaire was amazed at how someone, merely 3 years his senior, could accomplish so much in his life. He wasn’t necessarily _jealous_ , but he was envious. He wished he could make something out of his seemingly pathetic life. Enjolras seems like such a cold character on screen but in reality, he was lively and energetic. When he spoke about food and cooking, the corners of his eyes would crinkle and he would lean in closer.

“Cooking is liberating. Baking is liberating. Everything that has to do with food, as long as you create it – it fucking sets you free. You are in control. You can add a dash of salt, you could garnish it. It’s a true taste of freedom.”

“That’s how I feel about art. Cooking is no different. It feels so right to just watch everything fall together into one beautiful canvas or a dish or a ramekin,” Grantaire nodded in agreement.

They clicked.

“Exactly,” Enjolras bit his lip. He was surely making progress. But shit, he can’t forget that Grantaire is taken. This was wrong – morally wrong on so many levels.

Grantaire started to feel the sparks again and he broke his gaze at Enjolras to look at the time. 8:35 am. Wow, he had spoken to Enjolras for over 4 hours and it felt like a few minutes at most. Time flies when you’re having fun. He never really spoke to anyone like this other than Eponine.

“We should head back to the hotel. The competition starts at 10:30,” Enjolras got up, languidly. He didn’t want to leave yet, he wanted to continue chatting. But, this was his job and besides, it’s not like he wouldn’t be seeing Grantaire or anything.

They walked back to the hotel together and managed to avoid any paparazzi, much to Enjolras’ relief. Luckily, they could walk into the hotel without anyone suspecting them of any foul play or “favouritism” because it was still fairly empty and the crew hasn’t arrived yet. Everyone was eating breakfast in their rooms, most likely.

In the elevator, Grantaire courageously decided to break the deafening silence.

“Enjolras, it was nice talking to you.”

“It was nice talking to you too, Grantaire. Good luck today.” Enjolras smiled, warmly.

“Thanks… I’m going to go check up on Eponine. See you later,” Grantaire waved and exited the elevator.

“See you…” Grantaire left, the elevator door closed and Enjolras swore he took all the air with him because he couldn’t breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY!! I SWEAR I will get writing the competition part as soon as possible.  
> I really want everyone to see how Enjolras and Grantaire try to hide their attraction for each other on camera.  
> You have no idea how much I want to give Enjolras a culinary boner from Grantaire's dish. That'd be bloody priceless.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed x


End file.
